


When the Sniffles Come Round

by Starlithorizon



Series: Alchemy and Guitar Ties [39]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:59:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlithorizon/pseuds/Starlithorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Arthur gets sick since moving in with Martin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Sniffles Come Round

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in twenty minutes, tops. It's been a long while since I've posted anything in this series, and just as long since I've _written_ anything for it! I'm sorry I'm lame. And that this is kinda lame. It's just a bit of sweet, mindless fluff because I have a cold and Arthur gets one too; that's how it works.

Arthur woke up with a stinging throat filled with a wet cough. He felt like microwaved death, and rather than jumping up to start his day, he snuggled deeper into the covers. Martin snuffled in his sleep as Arthur wriggled around trying to get comfortable. Things were almost nice until his nasal passages rebelled and he sneezed so loudly that Martin fell out of bed in his surprise.

"Dear God, Arthur, was that you?" the ruffled pilot asked, raising both eyebrows in surprise. Arthur nodded sheepishly.

"Sorry, Skip," he mumbled, voice slightly garbled from the sore throat and stuffy nose. Martin offered a fond smile.

"It's fine, love. It was an interesting wake-up call." He pressed a light kiss to Arthur's lips before heading out to the kitchen to make breakfast.

When the clock struck ten and Arthur had only emerged from the bedroom once, Martin grew concerned. He bustled into the room, looking at him with such unguarded worry that Arthur grew hazy and pleased.

"Arthur, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," the steward rasped, wincing as the words dragged like sandpaper over his inflamed throat. Martin tutted, ever the nervous hen.

"You're sick," he said gently, moving to fluff Arthur's pillow. Arthur just lay there, letting it happen while he thought (for the trillionth time) how lovely his captain smelled.

When Arthur woke again, bleary and frayed at the edges, he smelled chicken soup. He smiled wanly, thinking of the sick days when his mum would whip up a batch and let him eat on the sofa. It brought back memories of cartoons and his mother's soothing hands on his feverish brow. He was only slightly surprised when it was Skip who poked his head through the door. He smiled broadly at Arthur, disappearing just long enough to collect a tray with soup and hot tea.

"Are you feeling any better?" Martin asked, brushing a cool hand over his cheek.

"Mmph," came the answer. That alone seemed to infuriate his throat, and he scowled as he wriggled even further beneath the pile of blankets laid over him.

Martin just smiled, pressed a dry kiss to his temple, and settled in the armchair in the corner with a book.

* * *

Arthur dozed off and on for a couple of days, with Martin touching him lightly and tending to his every whim and just being there. When they were called off on a flight, it struck Arthur as strange to be taken care of his mum by then. Wonderful, but strange.

It was the first time he'd gotten sick since moving out of Mum's house, and already he was used to Martin taking care of him. And he knew that the second Martin started sniffling, it would be his turn, and though he didn't really want his Skipper to get sick, he was already looking forward to it. Anything for his wonderful Skipper.

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, this is so blah, but I feel slightly better now. Which is a lie. I need more tea and all the honey. And so. Many. Cough drops.  
> Oh, and new fandom blog! You can find me being enthusiastic about Wimbledon Bumbersplat, as well as some of my art/embroidery and lame thoughts. You can also say things to me via that lovely ask box. I do enjoy that.


End file.
